Page 136 of Offside Devil

“But you shouldn’t have to. I’m the reason you were in that situation, Mira. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

“You can’t help it that assholes think they deserve to know everything about you. That isn’t your fault.”

I tip her chin up. “It’s not yours, either.”

She wants to argue with me. I see the fire burning in her green eyes, but she can’t. Instead, she sags against me. Her cheek is warm on my chest. “I think I’d feel better if you were mad at me.”

“I’m not surprised. You do like to fight with me.”

She lets out a watery laugh. “It would be a good distraction.” Her chest hitches. “Every time my brain goes quiet, all I see is Aiden in the corner of that stupid trampoline park, terrified. I see that man standing over him. I had no idea what he was going to do to him. What he was capable of. I didn’t know if he’d hurt him or?—”

I tense and Mira must feel it. She strokes a hand down my arm, squeezing gently. “I should have kicked that photographer in the dick.”

“We can hunt him down if you want. I can justify murder if you can.”

She goes perfectly still in my arms. Does she think I’m serious?

Hell, I might be.

“Or,” I push her away from me gently, setting her on the end of the bed, “we could find other ways to distract ourselves.”

She tugs on her bottom lip with her teeth. “Sleep?”

“If that’s what you want.” She lies back as I crawl over her, doe eyes blinking up at me even as her fingers slide down my stomach.

Her chest is flushed beneath the collar of my shirt. When I kiss her neck, her breath catches.

For a woman who likes her privacy, she’s pretty damn easy to read.

“Is that what you want?” I ask. “To sleep?”

A whimper lodges in her throat. She opens her legs, letting me settle between them. “Yes… After.”

We sink together in a kiss that feels as natural as breathing. She tugs my shirt off and I force myself to undo her buttons one at a time rather than shred it open.

I like the way she looks in my clothes.

I like the way Mira looks under me.

In my bed.

Sitting at my kitchen counter.

Holding my son’s hand.

The last time something occupied this much of my brain space, I was forging checks and overdosing on dirty bathroom floors. But Mira isn’t destroying my life piece by piece; she’s making it better.

“Zane…” she gasps as I slide my hand between her legs.

She wants me as much as I want her.

If this is an addiction, at least I’m not in it alone.

Mira arches off the bed, wordlessly asking for more, and I give it to her one inch at a time. When we’re sealed together, I drop my forehead to hers.

I should have enough of her by now. I should be done.

But I want more.

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